


Missing VII

by AnnaOnTheMoon



Series: Missing [7]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek:Picard
Genre: #PicardNeedsBev, #PicardShow, F/M, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 15:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19112956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaOnTheMoon/pseuds/AnnaOnTheMoon
Summary: Beverly hasn't heard the sound of a transporter beam in a long time.





	Missing VII

Beverly Picard was in her makeshift office, if you could even call the lean-to she was using an office, when she heard the old, but familiar, zing of a federation transporter beam.  It was a noise she hadn’t heard in years, but she recognized the sound right away. She and her crew had been stranded on the class-M planet after her ship had suffered heavy damage as the result of an unprovoked attack.  Even the majority of their shuttles and escape pods had suffered damage, so when they all had regrouped down on the closest M-class planet, their only choice had been to use one of the functioning shuttles to try to launch a distress beacon and then lay low and wait for rescue.  That had been fifteen years ago, give or take, as Beverly had stopped marking the passing of time years ago. 

The survivors of the attack had made her their default leader, and she tried to channel what she thought her husband would do, tried to remember the contingency plans for emergency landings – don’t interact with the locals if they lack warp capabilities, try not to disturb the land too much.  Unfortunately, needs must and within a month they had been required to seek out the primitive civilisations simply to help insure their survival.  Their replicators would only work on backup power for so long, after all. 

Their pods and shuttles had been completely gutted – used to create the shelters they needed.  The mattresses from the shuttles weren’t comfortable, but at least it was a bed. Their little compound had a strict policy of not using any lighting during the day, and only for two hours each night unless you were stationed on watch duty.  They had one small pod they kept in working order for the purpose of scouting for nearby ships and for checking their beacon, but slowly they had reduced the frequency it went out over the years.

They used their limited power to create clothing similar to the local tribes, and learned where the weekly market was.  Each week, several members of her crew would attend and they would “sell” whatever they could make from their limited supplies in exchange for food, clothing, and other items they needed for survival.  It seemed to work out, but Beverly always hoped they would be rescued.  She missed her husband, and she missed her sons.  She hadn’t even _seen_ Rene grow up, and Jean-Luc  didn’t....her thoughts trailed off as she picked up the sound of another zing.

She cautiously approached the noise, and motioned to her companion to hide in the bushes just in case they weren’t friendly visitors. They hadn’t checked the distress beacon in several months, so Beverly didn’t even know if it was still functioning.  She patted her hip to check for the phaser she now kept where her tricorder used to sit.  It wasn’t always safe here in the jungle forest, so she never moved without protection.  She moved into the clearing and squinted at the person who had materialised.  Beverly glanced at the tall bald figure, her eyes moving to the Romanesque nose, the jutting chin, and the broad shoulders...she broke out in a run. 

Beverly was caught in the strong arms of her husband, Admiral Jean-Luc Picard.


End file.
